


this whole city thinks it needs you

by cinabrese



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mute Keith, Transistor AU, it's literally the game but with keith and lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 12:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12132639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinabrese/pseuds/cinabrese
Summary: The woman standing with Kuron raises her hands, and a weapon resembling a sword raises into the air. She flings her hand out, and it sails toward Keith. Instinctively, he raises his arms to block it, but knows there’s nothing he can do, he can’t get out of the way-An arm pushes him back as someone moves in front of him. Keith’s eyes go wide as the weapon buries itself into Lance’s abdomen. Lance makes no sound, but Keith screams for the both of them. The weapon flares up, a blinding light, Keith’s scream is cut short, and when his vision returns he’s on the roof of a nondescript building in Goldwalk.Left with no voice and the weapon that took it, Keith is the only person standing between Cloudbank and the Process.





	this whole city thinks it needs you

**Author's Note:**

> klance au based on one of my favorite games! a lot of the big monologues are lifted from the story, as are the names of places and the camerata (that one's mostly because i couldn't think of anything better to call them)
> 
> please check the bottom for warnings! beware: they are spoilers

“What….Where….How….No. Hey...Red, where are you? Where are you….”

A flash of light. Keith stumbles, rights himself, gasping for air. He’s frantic, but not frantic enough to overlook the fact that he’s no longer at the rehearsal set. The roof of the building is unfamiliar, but the skyline tells him he’s still in Goldwalk, and...halfway across the district from the set. How did he…? Wait. Someone’s talking.

“Hey!” the voice says as Keith slowly makes his way across the rooftop. The sword _they_ used is there, pulsing as it speaks, sounding breathless and relieved as Keith comes into view. Keith’s heart is still racing from before and he feels as if he’s on fire, but all that stops and his blood turns to ice when he sees the body. The sword doesn’t take note of his desperation, instead only asking, “That you?”

It’s so strange to Keith, seeing him, his body, and hearing his voice, but not as one. The body is slumped, lifeless, pinned to wall by the sword. His voice, so familiar, so comforting, is distorted and processed as it leaves the sword.

“Look at you,” he’s saying. “You’re alive! Not so sure about myself.” There’s something akin to a quiet laugh in his voice. Keith doesn’t share the sentiment. “Could use your help,” the sword pulses. “I know this looks bad.” Keith doesn’t say anything, _can’t_ say anything, only stares at the speaking sword and the still body helplessly.

The sword, _the Transistor_ , they called it, is silent as Keith doesn’t move. “Hey,” he begins, “say something already.” Keith sighs and looks away from the sword. “Say something, will you?” The air changes around them as he comes to the realization of the truth. “Oh no.”

They stay there in silence for a few minutes as the severity of what has happened fully sinks in. Then, “Hey, Red. We’re not going to get away with this, are we?”

* * *

 

The next body they come across does not have a sword run through it, and is slowly being consumed by whatever force is overrunning the city. “The Process,” the Transistor supplies. “I...don’t know how I know that.” Keith hums in acknowledgment and moves closer to the body.

“Katie Holt,” Lance’s voice says from the Transistor upon recognizing the Processed body. As he speaks something rises out of Katie’s body, a glowing cube. “What happened to you?” Lance asks. The cube stretches and pulses, and is absorbed into the Transistor. As they move along through the district Lance fills him in on what Katie has to say.

“You know Katie Holt, right? One of the best scientists Cloudbank has to offer.” Keith hums. “Singlehandedly responsible for the installation of more terminals, which I can’t ever thank her enough for. Makes it easier to order pizza from Sal’s. Anyway,” he continues when Keith makes an impatient noise. “She was looking into the disappearance of her father and brother. They disappeared a few weeks ago. I bet I know who’s behind that.” Lance pauses, listening to more of what Katie has to say. “The Camerata were on to her. Didn’t like her poking around trying to find answers. Not sure if they really want her for whatever they’re planning, or if they just want her out of the way.”

Keith, of course, says nothing. But he taps a finger on the Transistor as they walk through a courtyard to let Lance know he appreciates the information.

A splash of red and gold at one end of the plaza catches Keith’s eye, and, because _why not_ , he’s already suffering, he walks up to it.

The poster is still untouched by the Process. On it Keith stands in the same outfit he wears now, the one reserved for performances. Only now it is torn and Lance’s jacket is thrown around his body, and in the poster it is beautiful.

The wall is lit up in blue as the Transistor pulses. “I’m so sorry, Red,” Lance says, disembodied voice heavy in the air. “They took your voice, and I couldn’t stop them. But we took something of theirs, and now we _will_ stop them.” Keith exhales, staring up at the poster, at himself, face peaceful as he sings onstage. “Hey,” Lance interrupts, “let’s just go.”

Keith takes one final look at what once was, and exits the plaza.

* * *

 

They find more partially Processed bodies the further they walk into Goldwalk. Samuel and Matt Holt, Katie’s family, taken for their profound knowledge of the city and how it operates. Allura Altea, prominent politician and beloved public figure, taken for her empathy and strategic mind. Her father, Alfor, the famous detective, and quite possibly the only one who would have been able to solve the mystery of what was happening in Cloudbank. No question about why they wanted him gone. Hunk and Shay Balmera, married for only three months (after years of courting, Shay supplies, or so Lance tells him), taken for their work on the machines of Cloudbank. Coran Smythe, radio host and the keenest and most personable citizen Cloudbank had to offer. Trigel Dalterion, meteorologist, skypainter, Blaytz Nalquod, comedian, Gyrgan Rygnirath, designer, all lives stolen away by the Camerata.

Keith doesn’t understand why the Camerata wanted them, or why they’re doing this. He doesn’t understand anything now. It irritates him and makes him want to scream, but he can’t. He’s almost happy when they come across some of the Process.

He jumps back in shock as something moves. He wasn’t expecting that. But the creatures are targeting them and, well, Keith was never one to back down from a fight. The Clucker - Keith rolls his eyes at Lance’s name - is annoying with it’s precisely targeted bombs, and the Weeds wait for him to step closer to them before attacking. But they fall to him and the Transistor, and he can’t help but feel a little smug.

By the time they reach the now empty stage, Keith still knows little more than he did when he found himself on the rooftop. The people whose Trace Data the Transistor’s absorbed have told them _why_ the Camerata took them, but not _what for_. No one knows anything about the Process. It’s frustrating, Keith decides as he stands on the deserted stage, the Transistor at his side.

“Hey,” Lance says. “Give the audience a show.”

Keith looks down at the Transistor, mouth twisting and nose scrunching.

“I still count as an audience, you know,” Lance chuckles at his inaction. Keith shrugs at that, takes a breath, and hums. The Transistor dims slightly, the way it does when Lance is thinking about something, but Keith pays it no mind. He may not be able to sing, but the words and songs are still in him. Slowly, he closes his eyes and loses himself to the music in his head as he hums a tune.

When Keith comes back to himself, they are not alone.

“He’s here.” The Transistor flashes, the red eye lighting. “Look who it is.” Keith’s gaze snaps to the space directly in front of the stage. A mostly Processed person stands there, alone, but very much alive, not dead like the others. Keith approaches it cautiously.

“Hello again, Kuron,” Lance greets, tone icy.

The Processed lifts into the air, distorted voice saying, “You are here, you are here, you are here. I knew you you’d return, I knew, I knew, I knewiknewiknewiknew-”

“He’s been corrupted,” Lance says. “He’s gone mad from the Process. Was he...was he waiting here for you? This whole time?” Keith does not know the answers to these questions, but he does know that they are about to face the wrath of a spurned lover with a broken heart, and that they need to be ready.

Kuron lets out a mechanical screech, diving for where Keith stands. Just in time Keith manages to bring the Transistor up, blocking the Processed’s attack. With the skill of the Transistor he darts away. A mantra of _You knew iwouldwaitiwouldwait I would wait for you_ echoes through the auditorium, in Kuron’s voice but not. It sounds machine-like, similar to Lance’s voice through the Transistor, but far more changed. Like Kuron himself, it’s more Process than human.

“He has friends,” Lance warns, and Keith looks up in time to block and strike back at the swarm of Badcells. They’re easily taken care of, and Keith turns back to Kuron.

“Give it back, give it back, give it backbackbackback!” Kuron shrieks, pulling back to attack Keith again. Keith’s prepared this time, and before the Processed can move Keith is there, plunging the Transistor into Kuron’s Processed body. Another mechanical wail, and Keith moves quickly, flanking Kuron and dragging the Transistor across his back. Kuron quickly moves across the auditorium, leaving Keith panting as he works up the strength to move the Transistor again for another big attack.

“Alonealonealone, I told them you’d be alone, I toldthemitoldthem,” Kuron babbles. Keith grits his teeth, charging, and is caught off guard as Kuron lunges into the air and moves behind Keith. He drives his foot into Keith’s back, knocking the air out of him and sending him sprawling halfway across the auditorium.

“Red!” the Transistor pulses. Keith gasps for air and pushed himself to his feet. Kuron is right there as he gets up, saying “Your voice is it gone, it is gonegonegone, it is gone,” and punching Keith before he can raise the Transistor. Keith groans as he reels back, but stays on his feet and counterattacks. Kuron screams and releases more Badcells, forcing Keith to take care of them.

As the last Badcell is drawn in Kuron moves to strike Keith from the back again, and is surprised when Keith whirls around, mouth open in a silent cry, and slices the Transistor across his chest. The Processed does not bleed, but still clutches where the Transistor cut him, and Keith doesn’t waste the opportunity. He uses the Functions from the Traces the Transistor absorbed to move directly behind Kuron, and plunges the weapon into his back, using all of his force to pull it down even as he pushes it in.

Kuron’s mechanical voice screams once last time, and the Processed body falls to the auditorium floor. “Finally,” he says, “finally, finally, we can be, we can be-” and the Processed bursts into cells, all drawn in by the transistor.

“Bye, Kuron,” Lance says. A cube arises from where the body fell. “His Trace.” Like the others, it is absorbed into the Transistor. “You’re going to tell us where the rest of the Camerata are.”

The light of the Transistor dims as Lance pulls into himself to interrogate Kuron. Keith collapses against a wall of the auditorium, closes his eyes, and remembers last night.

* * *

 

“That guy’s hanging around again.” Keith looks up from where he sits at his mirror in his room backstage. The door to the room swings shut and Lance catches Keith’s gaze in the mirror. He’s frowning as he walks behind Keith, who shrugs and returns his attention to the sheet music in front of him.

“Kuron’s okay,” Keith says. “He’s supported me ever since I met him at that gala a few months ago.”

Lance’s frown deepens. “It’s more than that. The way he’s hung around the last few nights, it’s almost like he’s fixated on you.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith scratches down notes on the music. “You worry too much.”

“Yeah, because my employer is prone to starting fights with his music,” Lance counters.

“That was one time.”

“Once was enough for you to hire me.”

Keith lifts his head and looks at Lance through the mirror again. “Don’t worry about Kuron,” he finally says. “He’s just enthusiastic.”

Lance still has a crease in the middle of his forehead, but accepts Keith’s wish to change the subject. “You ready for tonight?” he asks as Keith gets up and stretches his arms above his head.

“Of course,” Keith scoffs. “Warmed up before you came in.”

“Sorry, I was busy doing my job.”

Keith snickers and the two leave the room to wait in the wings backstage. “I think you’ll like tonight’s line up.”

Lance hums. “I usually do. Less to do with the songs, more to do with the singer.”

Keith laughs quietly as the host announces him on stage. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“I don’t know, Red,” Lance says, leaning down. “It’s gotten me this far.”

“Oh, shut up,” Keith retorts, and kisses him. They break apart just as the host finishes her speech, and Keith smiles at Lance before walking away. “Got my back?”

“Always,” Lance confirms with a grin.

Keith walks onto the stage, barely flinching at the lights, and sings.

* * *

 

“You did great tonight,” Lance tells him. They’re the last ones in the auditorium, packing up and locking up. “And you’re right, I did like the line up.”

Keith grins. “I knew you would.”

They exit backstage together, planning on cutting through the rehearsal set to leave through the back alley and avoid the mess of people at the main entrance. Lance stops abruptly, swearing. “I left my jacket in your room,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll wait for you outside?” Keith asks, and Lance nods before darting back across the stage. Keith opens the door to the rehearsal set, and is halfway to the alley door when he realizes he isn’t alone.

“Hello, Keith,” Kuron addresses him.

“Kuron,” Keith responds, a chill running down his spine. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I believe so,” Kuron says. “We’ve been watching you for a while. With the Transistor...you could help us so much.”

“We?” Keith asks and searches the room.

“The Camerata.” As Kuron speaks three more people make themselves known, all dressed just as finely as Kuron.

“Don’t worry, Keith,” Kuron says. “All will be made clear soon. Perhaps it could have been clearer sooner, had you not pushed me away in favor of...undesirables. Nevertheless, we’ll be together soon.”

The woman standing with Kuron moves, and a weapon resembling a sword raises into the air. She flings her hand out, and it sails toward Keith. Instinctively, he raises his arms to block it, but knows there’s nothing he can do, he can’t get out of the way-

An arm pushes him back as someone moves in front of him. Keith’s eyes go wide as the weapon buries itself into Lance’s abdomen. Lance makes no sound, but Keith screams for the both of them. The weapon flares up, a blinding light, Keith’s scream is cut short, and when his vision returns he’s on the roof of a nondescript building in Goldwalk.

* * *

 

Keith has dozed off while Lance was silent. Upon realizing this, as he groggily opens his eyes, he jolts, feeling for the Transistor, cursing himself for being so lax.

“Hey, hey,” Lance’s voice croons from the Transistor. “You’re fine. Don’t worry, I was watching. If anything had happened I would have woken you.”

Keith isn’t really sure how he would have accomplished that but he relaxes nonetheless.

“So,” Lance begins, “want to hear what Kuron had to say?” Keith nods and settles back against the wall as Lance speaks. “They’re hiding out at Galra Towers. The other three. Kuron was their eyes and ears. He was supposed to get close to you. He’s the one who suggested they try to take _you_.” Lance falls silent again. “That’s all he had to say. Or that’s all he could say.”

Keith’s nods and stands, stretching, ready to head in the direction of the Towers, when Lace speaks again. “Oh!” he exclaims. “He did tell me another thing. Here, go over there, no, yeah, right there. And...okay, here we are!” Lance’s directions take them to an anomaly in the city, and when they approach the Transistor flashes, revealing a backdoor. “His own little hideaway,” Lance says, smug. “Well, I guess it’s ours now. Come on, let’s go in. You could use the rest.”

Keith steps into the pocket, and immediately their surroundings are changed. What should have been an empty doorway is a small cove, and there’s sand under Keith’s feet, waves gently rolling against the shore.

“There’s something else here,” Lance says, and Keith immediately is on guard. All they uncover, however, is a Processed. A Fetch. “Hey!” Lance laughs. “She’s friendly! Aren’t you, girl? Who’s a good girl, Laika? Can I call you Laika? Who’s a good girl?”

Grinning as Lance talks to the Fetch, Keith sets the Transistor down in the sand. Kuron has a hammock set up, and he lays down in it because for once since this nightmare began, they are safe. No one can find them. Keith hums and drifts off into a light sleep.

“If we go down to the Channel we should be able to find a way into Highrise,” Lance suggests as they leave the backdoor. Keith hums in agreement, already turning down towards the Bay.

* * *

 

They’re almost at the Channel when they find the body.

It’s dead, and the Process is, again, slowly consuming it. But there’s no mistaking who it is. Keith would never misidentify his own brother.

“Red,” Lance says softly when Keith does nothing, just stares at Takashi’s body. “Red, I’m so sorry.” Keith brushes Lance’s words aside. It’s not his fault.

Like the other times they came across Processed bodies, a cube rises up and is absorbed by the Transistor. Lance tells him everything Keith already knew and guessed; his disappearance wasn’t because of his retirement, the Camerata were involved, and they wanted Takashi Shirogane for his quick thinking and sportsmanship. Things Keith, and most of Cloudbank, admired him for. The information Lance gives him isn’t a surprise, but now he knows where Takashi disappeared to. The thought doesn’t comfort him.

“Let’s go,” Lance murmurs as more of the Process overtakes Takashi’s body. Keith blinks back the hotness behind his eyes and walks toward the Channel.

* * *

 

They’re ambushed by the river, because why wouldn’t they be, Keith thinks bitterly, raising the Transistor to block the Young Lady’s attack. He flinches when a Snapshot fires at him, blinding him, and subsequently is drawn in by a Creeper, who happens to be next to a Weed, and he can feel needles of pain all over his body.

“Dammit,” Lance swears after Keith breaks free from the Creeper. “That one hurt.” Keith grunts, flinging himself back into the fray and going after the Young Lady with renewed vigor. She bursts into cells and Keith quickly lets the Transistor absorb them before they can respawn. He doesn’t want to deal with another Young Lady if he can help it.

With the Young Lady gone he can focus fully on the other Processes, and he dodges the Creeper’s magnetic pull and cuts down the weed. The Creeper and Snapshot follow after that and they finally get to the river, a little more battered and bruised than planned.

There’s a boat, thankfully, and Keith climbs on, making sure he won’t lose the Transistor to the water when he starts moving. He chuckles at that; coming all this way just to lose the most precious item by dropping it into the river.

Lance talks as they travel up the river. “They were hunting people, but we don’t know what for. What did they plan to do with them? None of them have anything in common. Allura Altea was a politician, Blaytz Nalquod was a comedian. Coran the radio host and Katie the scientist? Nothing adds up. And-” Lance breaks off. “Red. Look at that.”

Keith slows the speedboat and turns in the direction the Transistor’s eye is facing. Behind them, Goldbank is gone. It’s completely overrun with the Process and unrecognizable as the district it should be. Keith turns the boat back on and continues speeding up the river until they’re forced to exit near the Ferry Building.

“That’s as far as the river’ll get us,” Lance comments, as if it wasn’t obvious. Keith hums and heads toward the stairs at the closest building. Before he can get there, though, Lance exclaims, “Hey, isn’t that a terminal? Go over to it.” Keith locates said terminal and shrugs, taking the Transistor to it. He turns it on and holds the Transistor up so the eye is pointed at the screen. The Transistor flashes rapidly, as if excited, and Lance says, “Do you think Station Sal’s still delivers?”

They wait a few minutes, and, as it turns out, Station Sal’s does still deliver, and so Keith has a pizza to eat. Lance sighs wistfully. “If I wasn’t in here...well, there are a lot of things that would mean, but mostly it would mean I could eat pizza.”

Keith laughs, breathy and silent, and finishes up what he can eat. Ordering pizza in such a dire situation wasn’t entirely inane; he had been hungry. The last time he ate was...last night, some time before the show.

“Guess we better get a move on,” Lance says as Keith stands and stretches. The Transistor pulses lightly as Lance chuckles. “Some things never change.” When Keith looks at him quizzically he adds, “You always stretch when you stand up.” Keith rolls his eyes but smiles, and picks up the Transistor to start ascending the stairs.

Once up on the roofs and high walkways, Keith pauses. Nearly the whole city can be seen from Highrise, glittering and shimmering gold. But there, where Goldwalk was, is a Processed district, just like the view from the river. Only now Keith can see all of it, the entire Processed area. The music hall, the gallery, _everything_ has been Processed. None of Cloudbank’s shining gold buildings are left in Goldwalk.

Galra Towers are just ahead, Keith can see them now, and he sucks in a breath as he braces for the confrontation to come.

They enter the main gondola, ready to go up to the Towers. But as it rises something flies by outside. Keith’s head whips around and he catches the barest glimpse of something unnatural, something Processed.

“Oh,” Lance groans. The Transistor’s eye glows, brighter than normal, and Lance’s speech is distorted and slurred. “I don’t feel...so good.” It sounds like he’s out of breath, Keith thinks, which shouldn’t be possible. Panic is a vice in his chest. Instead of its usual blue hue the Transistor glows red as they exit the gondola and further work their way through Highrise.

Lance is still talking, which relieves Keith, but only slightly. He sounds feverish, like he’s not completely aware. “Don’t care much for Highrise,” Lance breathes as Keith cuts through Weeds blocking their path. “Too far away...from the water.”

Keith’s eyebrows draw together as Lance babbles and falls silent in cycles. It’s like this, lost in thought, that they’re attacked.

In his inwardly focused state Keith doesn’t take note of the building wall glowing red. Seconds later something stabs through it, narrowly missing them. Keith gasps and leaps back as the - claw, tail? - retracts, and all of Highrise shakes with a Processed screech.

“That’s...odd,” Lance’s mechanical voice slurs helpfully. If his heart wasn’t racing in his throat, Keith would snicker at his observation of the obvious. “They even corrupted...the Spine of the World.” Keith’s heart stops, and he dares a look out the hole left by the creature, and, sure enough, the landmark is missing. Shuddering at the thought of the Spine being Processed, Keith waits a few moments for it to return but, thankfully, it doesn’t.

Left with no other choices, Keith presses on. He becomes adept at spotted breach points, which glow red before the Spine’s tail breaks through. They continue up the Towers in this way; taking out Processed in their path and narrowly avoiding the Spine. The strategy works, until it doesn’t.

The Spine, having grown tired of their game of cat and mouse, confronts them for an all out attack. Keith dodges attacks from what he assumes is the Spine’s head, and when it rests he does what he can to attack with the Transistor. It doesn’t help, he thinks, sneering as his attack is interrupted, that the Spine still uses its tail to attack even while targeting them with its head. Lance is usually silent as Keith fights the Process, but the ghastly red glow of the transistor is less of a comfort than the usual blue.

Finally, finally, the head dies. Keith stabs the Transistor into the ground and leans on it, panting to catch his breath. He wants to go up the next flight of stairs, finally make it to the Concourse where the Camerata are, but.... He looks at the head of the Spine. Something doesn’t sit well with him, like it’s not completely gone.

Heaving the Transistor up, Keith enters the gaping hole in the Spine’s head left by his killing blow. The inside is even more Processed than the outside, and it unnerves Keith. Lance is completely silent; the Transistor is fiercely red now, with no hint of blue.

Gritting his teeth Keith moves further into the creature and finds what he was looking for. A heart beats in front of him. With aching arms he raises the Transistor, takes a breath, and drives the weapon home. The Processed heart is torn and its beat stutters to a stop. Keith sighs in relief and exits the Spine, relieved to find that, upon doing so, the Transistor has returned to normal, and Lance’s voice reaches his ears once more.

“Sharp work, Red,” he praises. Keith simply huffs out a laugh and takes the elevator to the Concourse.

* * *

 

The Camerata are behind a firewall. A gigantic locked door. Because they’re _scared_ . Of the Process. Of what _they_ unleashed onto Cloudbank. Keith has been invited up, they’re _welcoming_ him, but if he wants to get anywhere he has to manually unlock the door. He wants to scream in frustration.

The message on the terminal begins playing again. “ _It’s really you. You’ve come all this way. Never got a chance to introduce myself; I’m Zarkon Haggar. You haven’t come for me though, have you? You want Honerva. Good. I’d let you up, but it’s just...we’re stuck. Walled ourselves in so they can’t join us here either._ ” There’s a pause in the message. The only sound is Zarkon breathing. “ _I better go. Honerva needs me._ ”

Keith leaves the terminal behind, seething. The next set of stairs takes them to the firewall itself. “Must be the fast track,” Lance comments. “Guess we’ll have to take the long way up.”

A terminal in front of the firewall blinks with another message from Zarkon. “ _“When everything changes, nothing changes,” that’s the Camerata’s creed; our mission. We love our city the way it is; we didn’t want to see it fade because someone out there didn’t like the color of the sky. Everything we did, everything we’re doing, is for Cloudbank._ ”

Keith scoffs. Lance seems to share the sentiment. “If this is how they show love, I’d like to see what they do to things they hate.” Keith types out a message to Zarkon on the terminal. **Give me one reason to believe you. --K.**

As they move towards the maintenance wing they pass another terminal, blinking with a public message, not a private one for Keith.

 

“ _To The People Of Cloudbank: We Did This._

_We the Camerata are responsible for the inexcusable crimes committed against this city and her citizens._

_This is a formal admission of guilt. I solemnly swear everything written here is true. Know that I am responsible for these heinous acts perpetrated against the city of Cloudbank. My accomplices are Kuron Holgersson, Honerva Haggar, and Lotor Galra. We alone are to blame. Perhaps our worst sin is you will get no justice. For now, we all share the same sentence._ ”

Keith stares at the terminal as it repeats its message, rereading the statement as it plays. He frowns as he tries to piece it together, simply typing out a **Zarkon, what were you trying to do, if not this? --K.** before abandoning the terminal and continuing to the maintenance wing.

“What were they trying to do?” Lance asks from the Transistor. His voice is muted, as if he’s muttering and thinking aloud to himself. “It doesn’t make sense....”

Lance is right, Keith thinks. It doesn’t make sense. The Camerata singlehandedly brought this disease onto Cloudbank. If not for them Keith would be preparing for another night of singing, Lance wouldn’t be trapped in a sword, Takashi wouldn’t be.... Keith shakes his head. It didn’t make any sense.

There’s a reply waiting for them at the next terminal. “ _The Process, it doesn’t answer to us anymore. It doesn’t answer to anyone. We thought maybe we could stop it without the Transistor. That isn’t going well. Though you aren’t about to just hand it over, are you? Not after all we’ve done._ ”

He’s right; as if Keith would do that. Especially since Lance.... He sends a reply before moving on once more. **You’d still have it if not for me. Why did you attack me? --K.**

The answer, expected now, flashes at another terminal. “ _It was nothing personal, you know. You were valuable. Hand-picked. Unique. But one of many. All we needed was your point of view, to give the people what they didn’t know they wanted. That’s all we ever wanted, all Honerva ever tried to achieve. The rest was incidental. What good could four individuals ever hope to accomplish in this city with only their four own voices? We found our answer. You have it right there, in your hands._ ”

Honerva, Keith thinks, seems to be the real problem. The conductor. Yet Zarkon is doing all the talking for her. **Why are you speaking for Honerva? --K.** he asks.

“All this jumping around is getting old,” Lance comments as they leap to the next maintenance platform. Keith shrugs. out of everything he’s had to do today, this is the least worrisome.

A terminal flashes yet again, holding more of Zarkon’s answers. “ _Honerva can’t talk right now. She isn’t well. Listen, I’m doing everything I can for her. There’s still time. There has to be. But the truth is, ever since you took the Transistor from her she just hasn’t been the same. When you see her I think you’ll understand._ ”

“That’s the last lock,” Lance says as Keith presses the last button. “Let’s go find these two.”

Keith heads up the rooftop access stairwell, clutching the Transistor close. He’s armed, and he’s fairly certain Zarkon and Honerva aren’t, but he wants to be prepared for anything, lest they try to take the Transistor.

“Are you ready?” the Transistor pulses comfortingly as Keith opens the rooftop door.

The roof is cluttered with equipment hastily moved. Like the rest of Highrise, it is still blissfully unProcessed. A chalkboard displaying blueprints and qualities of the Transistor rests in one corner, and laying in front of it are the bodies of Zarkon and Honerva.

Lance tsks. “Cowards,” he spits. “Too afraid to face their own mess.”

A blinking light catches Keith’s attention, and he notices the terminal a few feet away. A message has been loaded onto it; the final words of Zarkon.

“ _I couldn’t stay to meet with you in person. Honerva couldn’t wait any longer. Why she would leave me.... I’d sooner take an eternity in the Transistor, but she was no longer seeing straight. Or perhaps she decided she had seen enough. We knew the stakes of what we wanted to accomplish. And we knew that if we were to fail, we’d do so together. As one. See you in the Country._ ”

Cubes rise up as Keith moves from the terminal to stand in front of the bodies. The Transistor absorbs them, even as Lance says, “You fake.” He falls silent for a few minutes as he processes the information Zarkon and Honerva hold, and Keith studies their surroundings. Parts of the Process are contained in tubes, a cat sits on the wall of the rooftop, staring at him, and papers littered about have more information about the Transistor written on them.

“Hey,” Lance says, the Transistor shimmering to life. “The last one, Lotor Galra. He’s in Fairview. Whatever we’ve got to do to stop this is there too.”

Keith nods, hefting the Transistor up and making his way back down the Towers. The walk to Fairview is silent, broken only by the few Processed that crawl out of the woodwork to attack them. After one such occurrence Lance speaks up from the Transistor.

“Guess we were wrong about them,” he muses. “They didn’t want Cloudbank to change. Didn’t want it to fade away under the influence of too many people. They wanted to preserve Cloudbank but...something went wrong. They got greedy. Had too much power in their hands than they knew what to do with. And now....” he falls silent, and Keith is all to aware of the white Processed buildings that surround them. “Now we’re all paying the price.”

They cut through Goldbank on the way to Fairview, “Back to where it all began, huh?” Lance comments, and the empty auditorium holds a grim surprise. Hundreds of the Process fill the seats. They aren’t interested in Keith and the Transistor, don’t make a move as they cautiously work they way down the stage, but Keith’s heart is in his throat, like any sudden and wrong movement will set them off. Lance is silent, the Transistor dimmed, like he too is afraid of what could happen if the Process awaken.

After a few minutes of walking past the Process Keith comes to terms with the fact that they won’t hurt them. They’re just...waiting. Keith doesn’t want to find out what for.

“Just one left,” Lance says as Keith continues through what’s left of Goldbank. “Hopefully with our answers.”

Keith hisses as a Man pops up out of nowhere and attacks them. Out of the corner of his eye he spots two more and curses inwardly. So not all of the Processed are like the ones filling the auditorium. He dispatches one Man but doesn’t reach its cell in time and it regenerates. Groaning, Keith raises the Transistor, firing off heavy attacks towards the regenerated Man, and barely dodges a Haircut from another.

“Watch out!” Lance warns, but not soon enough. Keith sucks in a pained breath as an attack hits him. The Transistor charged, he lines up the perfect shot. All three Processed are weakened, so if he hits them just right...there! They burst into a cluster of cells, and Keith darts forward, grinning as the Transistor absorbs them before they can respawn.

“Guess it would’ve been too easy if we hadn’t met anymore,” Lance complains. Keith wishes a backdoor would appear, but that seems like asking for too much. “Hey, Red,” Lance says, breaking him out of his thoughts. “That terminal’s got an update.”

Keith reads the news report as Lance listens to the terminal’s autoplay. “Guess things are bad everywhere,” Lance says gravely. The headline mocks Keith. _Keith, 27, Mourned as “Process” Toll Climbs: Vigil held for popular musician after he vanished in the catastrophic outbreak_.

“Yeah,” Lance says as Keith steps away from the terminal and moves ahead. “Good idea.”

* * *

 

Keith thinks he would enjoy the Process infinitely more if things _stayed dead_. The Spine twists in between the buildings of Goldbank, and the Transistor is, once again, affected by its presence.

“Oh, no,” Lance groans as the Transistor flashes red. Keith tries to keep an eye on the Spine as it moves, but it’s too quick for him.

Fighting the rising panic he feels, Keith sprints for an abandoned motorbike. He doesn’t care how, he just needs to get away from this area, from the Spine. He’s not sure if he can deal with another full on assault from it.

Lance babbles as they move. “You’re still there, I’m still here.... You’re still there, I’m still here.” Keith ignores him and instead focuses on swiftly getting rid of the Processed around the bike. There are more Processed humans, like Kuron but fully taken over by the Process, and Keith grimaces as he takes them down.

“Hey, Red,” Lance’s voice slurs. “I want to see you again...face to face...when this is over.” Something twists in Keith’s chest, but he has no time to spare to console Lance, to try and convey that he does too. Angered, Keith spins, driving the Transistor into one Man and slicing at another. Eventually they, like all the others, burst into cells, and Keith huffs for breath as he straddles the bike. He rests his head on the handlebars as he catches his breath, and Lance says, “You’re still there,” again, voice distorted and slow.

When Keith starts the bike up and drives further into Goldbank, leaving the Spine behind them, the Transistor returns to its normal state, and Lance comes back to himself. He’s quiet for a few minutes, and the only sound around them is the motorbike and the air rushing past.

“Hey,” Lance finally speaks up. “What I said back there, about wanting to see you again, face to face....” Keith makes no noise, doesn’t even hum, just waits for Lance to continue. “I meant it. I want to see you again, Red. Someday.”

Keith sighs and nods, even though Lance can’t see him, and pushes onward.

* * *

 

“Would you look at that,” Lance says in awe. “You’ve really got the key to the city.”

The terminal wasn’t right, that was easy to see. Keith had approached it, and the poll it displayed wasn’t much of a poll, more of a choice. He’s not sure if it was because there’s no one left _to_ poll, or because of the Transistor, but after making the selection _Light Precipitation_ , it started to rain.

“Just what do you think this thing is really capable of?” Lance asks as they turn a corner. Keith doesn’t get a chance to respond, because something is waiting for them.

“ _This is Lotor Galra of the Camerata, communicating via Proxy_ ,” the hovering machine in front of them says. “ _I am calling for a truce. See, I’d very much like for the, for the Process to...stop doing what it’s doing. And my conjecture is that you’d like that very much too. Assuming I’m right, come along and we’ll sort this out._ ”

The Proxy turns and floats away, leading them further into Goldbank. The path eventually leads them to the building Keith found himself on after his initial run in with the Camerata, and he sighs as he walks up to the roof. The entire building has been Processed.

“Could’ve sworn I left my body here,” Lance mutters as they pass the spot. Instead of a body, there are only white squares; Lance’s body has been Processed with the rest of Goldbank. Keith clenches his teeth and looks away, walking to the edge of the roof where the Proxy waits for them.

“There’s no way to get to Fairview from here,” Lance says. The Transistor’s blue glow is eerie on the white and red of the Process.

“ _What can the Transistor really do? What can it do?_ ” Lotor asks through the Proxy. “ _It can build a bridge. People want a bridge to Fairview? Sure, why not. Have a beautiful new bridge. It’s good for more than just bridges, of course. It can make just about anything happen, really._ ” The Proxy pauses. “ _To Fairview_.”

Keith frowns at the Proxy. He looks at the terminal on the rooftop and, remembering why it is now raining, starts it up. Like the last one it doesn’t show a poll or a report, but instead a command that needs authorization. _Imagine a Bridge to Fairview!_ it reads. The Transistor glows at his side, and Keith selects _Authorize_.

Almost immediately the air next to the roof shimmers, and before Keith’s eyes a bridge stutters into existence. The Proxy, without another word, follows the bridge into Fairview.

“I guess that answers that question,” Lance murmurs. Keith hums and follows the Proxy.

“ _The Process can’t be stopped_ ,” Lotor is saying as they catch up with it. “ _It could, however, be convinced to simply go away. Take its business elsewhere. Then we’ll be left alone.”_ Keith begins to raise his hand to gesture to the consumed building around them, but Lotor is already continuing. _“As for the city, well, we’ll have ourselves a blank canvas. The Transistor is the brush. It is the brush_.”

The Proxy floats away again, drifting further into Fairview. Keith looks at the Transistor. Now they know what they suspected at the earlier terminal; the Transistor builds. They could fix the city. They could return it to normal.

Keith looks around for Lotor’s Proxy. Fairview, like Goldbank, is overrun with the Process. But Goldbank was still recognizable. The auditorium still had seats, the streetlights were still there. Fairview is not like that. It has been completely consumed. Everything, from the buildings to the streets, is blocky and white. It has been fully Processed.

“Down there,” Lance points out. Keith looks over the edge of a building. The Proxy sits, waiting for them. Again, as they approach, Lotor begins speaking.

“ _Trying times. Very trying times these days. Honerva and the others, they’ve gone ahead without me, haven’t they? Haven’t they? Just you and me now. You and me, and the Transistor._ ” Keith’s lip curls at that, and he turns away from the Proxy and walks through a door further into Fairview.

The door takes them to another part of the district, and Keith is realizing just how wrong everything is. This section of Fairview is upside down. He looks to where they just came from, and, sure enough, it’s standing the opposite way of where they are now. The Transistor flashes. “How do you explain this...?” Lance asks.

“ _We had a saying_ ,” Keith sighs as the Proxy starts talking again, “ _which goes “When everything changes, nothing changes. You see? When everything changes, nothing changes. But all this? This isn’t what we had in mind._ ”

“Over there,” Lance points out. “A door.” They go through it and the next area, thankfully, is situated the right way. Keith thinks.

There is a Man waiting for them. One of the unlucky ones. Keith and the Transistor dispatch it, and the Proxy floats over to them.

“This guy’s real talkative, isn’t he?” Lance comments. Keith blows air out of his nose in a small laugh.

“ _The Process is just doing its job. Though I much preferred it when the Process did mine. But our old friend Honerva, I mean, I, I let her borrow it and she.... Well, anyway, here we are_ .” Lotor continues talking even as Keith continues through Fairview. “ _What we were doing was...wrong in the traditional sense, in the contemporary sense. There’s these Traces inside the Transistor. Everyday people, once upon a time, but now, well, not quite themselves, and trapped. No walls in there, mind you, it’s just, they’re on their own. Listen close enough and maybe you can hear them. Maybe you can hear them. Some of them, I mean. The ones you know_.” Keith looks at the Transistor he holds. The ones you know? Is that how he can hear him?

They continue through the corrupted Fairview, leaping from Processed ground to Processed ground. Lotor’s Proxy keeps a steady flow of commentary as they work their way through the district.

“ _Whenever people want to make a change, whether to the sea, or the sky, or anywhere in between, the Process does the real work. The Process does the work. Invisible, behind the scenes. Well, I say whoever does the real work ought to get the credit. So I found a way to put the Process center stage! A way to keep the Process working in concert. In harmony_.”

“I don’t like it here,” Lance says as they move through another door. None of Fairview has been spared Processing, and it’s eerily silent. Dead. Nothing moves except for Keith and the Proxy.

“ _The Transistor...I have no idea what’s inside it, really. Who or what. I have my theories, but that’s all they are. Theories. I’ve seen inside it, had myself a little look. But I didn’t see much, didn’t see much at all. It was like staring at the sky_.”

“Maybe that’s why he...sounds like that,” Lance comments to Keith after the Proxy moves ahead. “Repeating himself. Like Kuron. He hasn’t been affected by the Process, but being so close to it, maybe it’s done something to him.”

“ _This city, it changes shape all the time, right? Bridges, parks, highways, rising, falling, rising and falling at the people’s whim, with the changing of the seasons. Even the seasons are just...whim. I guess I grew weary of it, after a while. Things changing all the time. All the time_.”

Keith leaps to another Processed platform. “All clear,” Lance tells him as he lands.

“ _I knew Honerva half my life. Principled, persuasive woman, very persuasive. I’ll miss her. She appreciated my work. Supported my endeavors. The Camerata, it was all her idea. I was all for it! All for it at first. But then, well, I’d say the rest is history, but that’s not quite the case_.”

Keith spots a terminal not far from where they are. It’s busted, but the files still open when he approaches it.

“ _Where I found it, where I found it, why, I found it on a lark!_ ” Lotor says as Keith skims the file. It’s from a year ago, not terribly detailed, but appears to be Lotor’s memo about going into the Transistor. “ _Right around here, geographically speaking, although geography was only one small factor. There was also the math, awful lot of math involved. Wasn’t entirely myself when I found it, you might say. Sometimes I think...I think I didn’t find it at all. More like the other way around. You understand? Maybe it was looking for someone like me_.”

“Either way, now _you’re_ stuck with it,” Lance states. Keith moves away from the terminal, backtracking the way they came. A light flashes in front of them, and a backdoor shimmers into existence. “Hey,” the Transistor pulses, “let’s go in.”

As Keith enters the backdoor, greeting Laika the Fetch, Lance stays silent. Only when Keith sits down and stretches out comfortably does Lance pipe up.

“Had just enough of Lotor’s lectures back there. But if he says he can make the Process go away then I guess we’ve got to hear him out.” Keith sighs as he stands, raising his arms above his head and stretches. They exit the backdoor just as Lotor is saying, “ _...and that, I believe, is the Transistor’s true purpose. It’s true nature_.”

“Wait,” Lance says, raising his voice as much as the Transistor will allow. “Can you repeat that?”

The Proxy says nothing, merely floats ahead a few feet. “ _Okay, you’re almost here, almost here_ .” Keith glances at the Transistor, whose red eye brightens slightly. “ _You ready? Funny, I’m beginning to get a little nervous. So come on now! Come on_.”

The Proxy leads them to a narrow path that nearly resembles the catwalk stage at the auditorium. Unlike the rest of Fairview, it hasn’t been touched by the Process. “Must be the place,” Lance comments. “Hi, Lotor, if you can hear me.”

“ _Welcome! Welcome, welcome, well, come in, come on inside my studio. I’m quite unarmed, as you can see. And it’s safe in here, relatively safe. At least for now._ ” As Lotor speaks the Proxy powers down, until his voice is no longer sounding like it’s gone through a filter, and instead comes from the air around them, sounding natural.

“Here’s the thing,” the now disembodied voice begins. “If the Transistor doesn’t go back in its cradle then you and I both.... Well, we just won’t be anything anymore, in a little while. You, me, and the rest of this town. So, please. Don’t let my work go to waste. I’m being reasonable. Very reasonable.”

The path is lit up with dim floor lights, and as Keith walks down it with the Transistor in tow a firewall springs up behind them. He jumps at the sudden flash of light, turning around to look at it. “Well I don’t like that,” Lance says flatly. Taking a breath, Keith moves further down the way Lotor wants him to go, grimacing each time another firewall flashes up,  constantly moving them and locking them in.

“Now, full disclosure. I am positively one hundred percent certain this will work. This will work,” Lotor continues. Keith raises his eyebrows at that. “What I mean is, Transistor plus Cradle equals no more Process. No funny business, okay? We’ll just take it one thing at a time. One topic at a time.”

The Transistor flashes. “Comforting,” Lance remarks.

“Look. If this was...if this was all just some kind of ruse on my part, I mean, how base. Why would I lead you all this way?” The last firewall rises up behind Keith, and in front of him sits the Cradle. A glowing hole in the studio.

“This is it, then,” Lance murmurs. “You know what you have to do.” Keith pulls the Transistor in front of him, holding it with hands. He leans his head against it, sighing. The Transistor flashes, and Keith can almost see Lance smiling at him. “What do we have to lose?”

_The only thing I have left_ , Keith wants to scream.

He moves the Transistor over the Cradle. “I love you,” Lance tells him. “You know that, right?”

The Transistor is taken into the glow of the Cradle, pulling apart in a way Keith hasn’t seen before. “It’s time,” the voice in the Transistor says. “Bye for now.”

The cradle reassembles the Transistor, sliding it into the slot in the studio. The glow around it flares up, and Keith can hear Lance say “I will see you again. _I will see you again_.”

Everything goes black.

* * *

 

There’s a voice again.

“I know you can hear me. I won’t let you go. Stay with me. Stay with me”

* * *

 

“Let’s see, the good news...well, the Process, I think we got it. Contained it, so the city is going to be all right. It’s just, well, someone’s going to have to rebuild. But we flew a little close to the flame, so now we’re here, not there. We’re stuck. And, unfortunately, the only way back that I’m aware of is, well, unpleasant.”

Keith looks up from where he kneels on the ground, hunched over a Transistor. He’s no longer in the studio in Fairview. He’s on...ground? Or what looks like it. Around him he can see, chillingly, hundreds of Transistors plunged into the ground. A fence like one would find in the Country circles around the area. He sees a dilapidated building in the distance. A mimicry of grass stands still. Directly in front of him, a few yards away, stands Lotor, and he holds a Transistor over his shoulder.

“Let’s get this over with,” he’s saying. “So, who gets to go first?” The last of the Camerata begins to turn towards Keith, and as he does says, “How about me?”

Before Keith even has a chance to rise Lotor is there, Swinging his Transistor at Keith. Keith grunts as he’s sent flying back. As Lotor prepares for another attack Keith takes note, with growing horror, that there are capsules around them. Faintly, he can see on one: TRACE BANK: SUBJECT: SHIROGANE, T. The one next to it claims SMYTHE, C. The Traces, Keith realizes. The consciences of the partially Processed people they found.

Lotor is in front of him again, and Keith raises his Transistor in time to block his attack. Wasting no time, Keith moves right into an assault and puts his full weight into it, satisfied when Lotor cries out and falls back.

Keith rolls to avoid Lotor’s next barrage of attacks, and manages to escape the brunt but is caught across the ribs. It stings, and he hisses at the pain. Lotor grins. “Didn’t like that.”

Keith growls, charging forward and swinging his Transistor before Lotor has time to raise his and block. “Okay,” he says. “That hurt.”

Lotor doesn’t relent as Keith pauses to catch his breath. He aims for Keith’s feet, and he narrowly manages to jump and twist out of the way. The move send him crashing to the ground, and he lands on his back, prone. Like a dog after a rabbit Lotor follows him, and as he pulls his arm back to drive his Transistor into Keith’s chest Keith rises. Lotor’s own momentum works against him as Keith lifts his Transistor up. Lotor’s eyes widen in shock as Keith’s Transistor is plunged into his own chest. He freezes, dropping his Transistor to the ground. Keith scrambles away from him and stands, chest heaving as he draws in breath.

“Impossible,” Lotor breathes. His Transistor starts to break apart. “No, no, it can’t be gone. Please don’t be gone, please don’t-” His voice becomes distorted, like Kuron’s, and Keith watches as Lotor himself becomes distorted. Glitched. His form in enveloped in a white light, and Keith turns his head away to shield his eyes.

When the light fades Keith is alone with the Transistor in his arms. He’s kneeling on the Processed form of the bridge he created to Fairview. The adrenaline from the fight fades, and he’s left panting.

“We got away,” the Transistor flashes, and relief flood Keith’s heart. “Red,” Lance says, voice filled with excitement, “we got away!” Keith stands and looks around the bridge. It isn’t ornate like it was when he authorized it. Now it looks exactly like Fairview: Processed, white, and blocky. “Now you’re here,” Lance is saying. “And me. And...that’s it.”

Keith approaches the side of the bridge. As he nears it, he thinks of what it looked like when he first brought it into existence. As he does the Transistor flashes, and the Processed blocks mirror it back. Before his eyes the blocks transform into the ornaments that adorned the bridge originally. Keith blinks and moves to the next one. The same result. As he darts from side to side of the bridge he huffs a laugh.

“Look at this whole city,” Lance murmurs. “I guess it’s yours now. A blank canvas.” Conviction fills his voice. “And you still have the brush. Better you than the Camerata. Hey!” He sounds excited. “What are you going to fix up first? Goldwalk? The auditorium? Station Sal’s, Highrise, the canals?”

Keith hums as he walks, a nameless tune, the one he was working on the night the storm came. He thinks Lance would have liked it, eventually, when he finished it. The unProcessed bridge takes him back to the rooftop where it began, of course.

The body is as they left it. Processed. Keith remembers how it looked, remembers the grief and panic he felt, and the blocks transform back into the man he loves. “That’s not me. Not anymore. I’m still with you. In here.”

Picking up the tune again, Keith hugs the Transistor to him. It doesn’t escape Lance’s attention. “Hey, Red, what are you doing?” He sets the Transistor into the Processed rooftop. “Wait, wait, wait, what are you- what are you doing?” Keith sits down against the Processed blocks Lance’s body leans on and wiggles around to settle in. He leans against Lance’s shoulder and sighs, a small smile curving over his face.

Lance’s voice is low when he speaks next. “Don’t you do it. Don’t you dare.” Keith huffs, as if anything Lance has said has ever stopped him before. There’s nothing left in this city for him. He raises his arm and the Transistor floats up, pointed at him. “Don’t do this,” Lance pleads. “If you do this....”

Keith ignores the pulsing Transistor, and breathes in. “Wait-!” Lance’s cry is cut off as the Transistor drives itself home into Keith’s abdomen, a neat parallel, and everything goes black.

“Red! No...no, no, no, no. What did you do, what did you do. No, Red, no....”

* * *

 

When Keith comes to himself, the sun is blinding him. He blinks, then squints, and takes in his surroundings. All around him is a sea of yellow flowers. The sky is a pristine blue and, somehow, he knows it’s not painted.

“Hey, Red.” He turns at the sound, and smiles when he sees him. The sky is blue, but of course his eyes are bluer. He grins at Keith, reaching out to draw him close.

“Hey.”

**Author's Note:**

> >   
>  the aftermath of a double suicide after Keith and Lance get onto the roof of the towers. it's not graphic, but the characters are very much dead and have very much killed themselves  
> 
>> 
>> after defeating Lotor and taking control of the Process/Cloudbank Keith stabs himself with the Transitor. his consciousness is uploaded into the Transistor like Lance, but his physical body is very much dead.
> 
> hello welcome to my au in which Keith doesn't speak and Lance is a sword.
> 
> title is from fall out boy's "the last of the real ones"
> 
> comments are very appreciated!
> 
> i'm on tumblr at knightingale-s! i'm enticing you to come by offering to explain my choices in the story (why i chose what characters, names, etc). but come talk to me about anything! this fic, transistor (please talk to me about transistor), what you had for lunch, fob's new song, etc etc
> 
> also do y'all know how hard it is to write character interactions when one can't speak and relies on expressions and posturing but the other one can't see that but can speak. it's rough.


End file.
